


Whatever it Takes

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 2014 Jack/Daniel Ficathon, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack had been at Homeworld Security for fourteen days.</p><p>Daniel had been missing for four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever it Takes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magickmoons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickmoons/gifts).



> Written for magickmoons.
> 
> Prompt: Season 7 or later; hurt/comfort.
> 
> Magick, I didn't manage your optional request. I hope that doesn't spoil things too much. *hopes* 
> 
> Beta thanks to the inestimable princessofgeeks. "Go wild," she said at one point. I may have tiptoed through the tulips instead. But her support and wise counsel got me through the longest story I've ever written. She rocks.

He grilled a steak on the tiny concrete patio that would never replace his beloved deck in his affections, drank a lone beer from the fridge, and decided to pass on the remnants of the chocolate chip ice cream. He switched on the TV, surfed the sports channels for five minutes but found nothing that could distract him enough to bother watching, so switched it off again. He washed the dishes. He played some Puccini on his dad’s old record player -- the first thing he’d unpacked when he’d arrived in Washington -- but couldn’t concentrate, so turned the volume to zero. Watching the disc spin soundlessly was somewhat mesmerizing. He checked his cell, again. He went to bed, even though he knew sleep wouldn’t come.

He stared into the darkness until he couldn’t even see it anymore.

He’d been at Homeworld Security for fourteen days.

Daniel had been missing for four.

>>>> 

Landry called his office at 09.03am the next morning. No news. S&R teams had carried out grid searches and UAVs had been deployed. Nothing was found, except for Daniel’s glasses and his journal.

He’d disappeared from SG-1’s camp before dawn while the rest of his team was sleeping. Daniel had been on watch. He’d always been shit at keeping watch; too absorbed in books; too easily distracted. Jack had chewed him out about it a dozen times. Why the _fuck_ didn’t Daniel ever listen to him?

And where the hell were Carter and Teal’c in all this? He’d be having words. Strong ones. Loud ones. It was supposed to have been a milk run, a way for the team to unwind after the shit surrounding Daniel’s second ascension - and boy was that notion getting old – and Mission Bizzaro that was the ZPM affair. They were supposed to spend some quality mission time together before SG-1 changed forever in the wake of his departure to the capital and the imminent arrival of Mitchell. Not that they knew about Mitchell yet, but Jack had approved him as the leader of his team. Actually, _not_ his team anymore. And that was a bigger kick in the head than he’d ever imagined.

And the biggest kick in the head was that he hadn’t been there when Daniel vanished.

Jack eased the receiver back into its cradle and tried to get back to forging his new life here, while his heart lay light years away.

>>>>>> 

He tried not to call Landry. He really tried, but when day five crawled to a slow, frustrating conclusion, he threw a meal-for-one in the microwave oven and called anyway.

Nothing new to report. He heard the sympathy in Landry’s voice. Well, he could shove that sympathy where the sun didn’t shine. He didn’t want sympathy, or understanding, he wanted answers. He wanted Daniel. He _needed_ him. And he was very afraid that Landry had heard that loud and clear in Jack’s terse, irritated conversation. Not that Landry would ever say anything. No one ever said anything, even though everyone thought they knew everything.

They didn’t know how Jack’s heart was breaking, or how the rage he felt inside was eating him alive, or how the despair was taking him right back to a bleak earlier time and place in his life that only became better when a sneezing geek with a surprisingly steely core made him see sense and rescued him from himself.

He stared at an unopened whiskey bottle on his kitchen counter – an old friend and an older enemy. Daniel had bought it for him. It wasn’t meant to taunt or be a cruel temptation; it was a reminder of Daniel’s trust in him. Daniel had said they’d have a shot together during his first visit to the Washington apartment. They’d clink glasses and mark the beginning of the Chapter Before the Final Chapter, as Daniel had called it. Then Daniel had kissed him, slowly and with his heart, and told him everything would be fine. _They’d_ be fine. Jack needed to have a little more faith in them.

He stared at the bottle some more.

Then he went to bed and failed to sleep again.

>>>>> 

Jack gave up trying to rest at 4.32am. He ducked into the shower and hoped the hot water would ease the tension out of muscles that had struggled to relax every bit as much as his brain. He couldn’t switch off the internal monologue that repeated, _He’ll be fine, he’s Daniel; it’s been six days, I’ve lost him_ on an endless loop.

It was only as he turned off the water that he heard his cell.

He almost fell out of the stall and didn’t bother to grab a towel.

“We’ve found him, Jack. He’s alive.”

The rest was white noise. Jack muttered something that he hoped was thanks. He lay the phone carefully next to the sink, sat on the closed toilet lid and held his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure if those were tears on his face or if it was water from his still-dripping hair. It didn’t matter. Daniel was back.

Everything would be okay.

>>>> 

Rank had its privileges and one of them was snagging a ride on the next plane out of Andrews. Actually, this particular aircraft was part of the President’s Wing and had been provided without Jack even having to ask. It definitely paid to have friends in high places; friends who knew the worth of an unsung national treasure. Asgard beam was an option but, honestly, Jack needed time to get his head together. He could also sleep during the flight. His body was responding to the aftermath of the adrenaline spike that came with hearing that Daniel was safe by staging a loud “For god’s sake just rest” protest.

Daniel was sleeping and comfortable, according to Brightman, and, for the moment, that was enough. As for what had happened to him, there wasn’t much to tell. During a search, they’d found him wandering disoriented near the Gate, still in his uniform and with no visible injuries. The only noticeable problem was that he couldn’t stand bright light or loud noise.

Jack’s cell buzzed as the C-37 Gulfstream taxied down Andrews’ western runway. He checked caller ID and hit the button.

“Hank?”

“Jack. On your way?”

“Almost.”

“Good. That’s ... good.”

This wasn’t good. Landry was hiding something. Jack didn’t know the man well but something in the tone of his voice put Jack on edge.

“Hank?” he prompted.

There was silence for a moment that seemed to stretch to eternity and that Jack immediately filled with worse-case scenarios. Landry eventually said, “Before you get here you should know. Dr. Jackson isn’t talking.”

Jack peered out of the window, noting that rain was starting to fall. “Give him some time. He’ll spill. Daniel goes very quiet when he’s tired. Pretty soon, you’ll be begging him to shut up.”

“No, Jack. You don’t understand. He’s not talking at all. Dr. Brightman isn’t sure he can.”

Jack’s hand shook as it tightened on his phone. “Okay,” he said, quietly. “Got you. Just ... we’re about to take off. Gotta go.”

He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and defaulted to pilot mode, calculating air speed and distance and realizing that however soon he got there wouldn’t be soon enough.

>>>>> 

Landry met him topside. Never a good sign. It turned out that he just wanted to expedite matters so that Jack could get to the infirmary ASAP.

Daniel was conscious, although sleeping a lot. He wasn’t dehydrated and was eating a little. He just wasn’t talking.

“We’re hoping that might change now that you’re here,” Landry said. He fixed Jack with a steady look that went on a fraction longer than it needed to. Jack nodded. So, that answered that question.

Landry left him at the infirmary door. Jack took a deep breath and went in. Two guys occupied beds nearest the entrance – one had a broken leg, the other looked like he’d been in a fight. He nodded briefly to both. Daniel was in the bed in the farthest corner. It was quiet there and close to the doc’s office. The lights were dimmed. The noise Jack’s boots made on the concrete floor sounded unnaturally loud in the silence broken only by the steady beep of the ever-present monitors.

Jack’s heartbeat quickened as he approached. Daniel was sleeping on his side, facing away from him. The first thing Jack noticed was that he wasn’t attached to any machinery; definite bonus. Slowly, he walked around the bed, pulling a chair from its place by the wall as he went. He placed it quietly at the head of the bed and sat down, grateful for the chance to get off suddenly shaking legs.

And there he was.

Jack was almost paralyzed with relief. He realized that he hadn’t quite believed Daniel was back until this moment. Daniel’s breathing was even and steady. His face was a little pale and there were dark smudges beneath his eyes but he was recognizably Daniel. The urge to run a hand over his hair, feel his warm, familiar skin beneath his fingers, to say, _Hey, I’m here, I love you, it’s okay_ through touch, the way they did when they loved, was immense. Instead, he settled into the chair and watched and waited. Time became suspended. He wanted Daniel to wake, but he wanted him to rest. He wanted to know everything that had happened, and he wanted to know nothing because what he learned would probably make him so angry he wouldn’t know what to do with it.

So he kept silent vigil, and took in every twitch of eyelid, every involuntary movement of Daniel’s body. He mapped the lines on his face, which were more familiar to him than his own, and found himself fascinated with the red and gray that flecked his week-old beard. His lips, those beautiful, full lips that had kissed and loved him in so many different ways, were chapped and dry. But Daniel was alive and nothing else mattered.

With every tick of the clock, every beat of Daniel’s heart, Jack’s world narrowed to this bed, this chair, this man.

Some time later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Damn. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach. Brightman stood beside him, notes in hand, her assessing gaze straying past Jack to her patient. She nodded towards her office and walked away. Jack took one more look at Daniel, shoved his hand in his pocket to keep from resting it on Daniel’s shoulder in mute reassurance, and followed.

He closed the door carefully behind him.

“He’s doing well, General,” Brightman said, taking a seat behind her desk and indicating the chair across from her for Jack.

He sat. Brightman opened the file she’d been carrying but Jack suspected she didn’t need the words in front of her to give her report. She was professional to her fingertips, organized to within an inch of her life – her desk was immaculately neat and tidy. She knew exactly what was going on with Daniel.

Without looking up from the file, she began to speak. “Dr. Jackson eats and drinks if it’s put in front of him but does nothing voluntarily or proactively. He is sleeping and physically appears fine. He was photosensitive when first admitted, and seemed unsettled by loud noises, but that is easing. The real issue we have is that he is not speaking or interacting in any way. He appears disassociated. He understands what’s going on and follows instruction but he’s not engaging with staff or the environment around him.

“Teal’c and Colonel Carter have been sitting and talking with him but he shows no signs of recognition.”

Jack clenched and unclenched his fists, realized what he was doing and took a deep, steadying breath. Brightman’s cool professionalism, while admirable, was getting under his skin. Not for the first time since Fraiser’s loss, Jack longed for her presence. Brightman would never have Janet’s innate warmth and empathy. He tried not to judge her for that but he felt Janet in the very fabric of this infirmary and it pointed up the loss in a painfully direct way.

Jack asked, “Any ideas why that should be?”

Brightman folded her hands on the open file. “None at all, Sir. A brain scan has shown normal function. His bloodwork is normal. His vocal chords are intact. There is no way of telling whether he is choosing not to interact or simply can’t.”

Jack nodded. “Then, where do we go from here?”

“We give it time.”

“Time,” he said, slowly. Time. The standard medical response when there were no other answers.

“We monitor him closely and see how things develop.”

Jack leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands together. “And what would be your best guess about how things will develop?” The urge to frame the last four words with air quotes was overwhelming and he did his best to rein in the slightly irritated challenging tone of voice, but guessed he failed when Brightman fixed him with a surprisingly direct look.

“I think, Sir, that a lot will be down to those who love him.” Her gazed never faltered, Jack’s challenge being forcefully met by one of her own. “Oh, and time.”

Before the silence that followed their tense exchange became too difficult, the office door opened and MacKenzie blustered in. Jack sighed. He really didn’t want to get involved but if the man was about to suggest anything that resembled barking or clucking or, worse, a course of drugs, he would make his feelings known. Forcibly, if necessary.

“Dr. Brightman,” MacKenzie said, mildly. Then his gaze fell on Jack. “General O’Neill.” Not so mildly.

“Dr. MacKenzie.”

MacKenzie’s gaze switched between Jack and Brightman. “I could come back later.”

“Don’t go on my account,” Jack said. “The more the merrier. Can never have too many people not having a clue.”

In some distant part of his brain, Jack chided himself for antagonizing the people who were here to support Daniel but he couldn’t help it. He never responded well to feeling helpless.

MacKenzie chose to ignore Jack, and the insult, and addressed Brightman. “I have the initial results of the tests I ran this morning.”

Jack tensed. He was very aware that his views on MacKenzie’s failure to properly diagnose Daniel’s Linvris-related condition all those years ago were closely wrapped up in his own failure to deal with what happened. Down the years, he’d tried not to conflate the two. He usually failed.

MacKenzie eyed Jack sideways and placed a sheet of paper on Brightman’s desk. “While people in a state of psychogenic , or dissociative, fugue associated with trauma often temporarily lose their sense of personal identity, I don’t believe that is the case with Dr. Jackson. Neither does he appear anxious, distressed or confused, all of which are signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have to say that unless or until Dr. Jackson can tell us what happened, I am at something of a loss.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess ...” Jack rose from his seat and loomed over the good doctor. “He needs time.”

“And careful monitoring, yes.”

Jack nodded. Okay. He was done here. “Fine,” he snapped. “Then sign him out.”

“Sir, I really think ...”

“What? MacKenzie. You think what? Because from what you’ve said so far, and this goes for you too,” he pointed at Brightman, “you don’t seem to know what the hell to think. So he’s not talking. Maybe he just needs a little peace and quiet. I can give him that. And I can give him time and I can monitor him.”

MacKenzie was gearing up for a fight, Jack could feel it. “He needs ...”

 _Me. He needs me._ It was a miracle they couldn’t hear his thoughts, so loudly were they echoing in Jack’s head.

“I think the General’s right.” Brightman rose from her seat and walked around her desk to stand beside Jack. “Being surrounded by familiar things, in a place where he feels comfortable and safe, might be just what Dr. Jackson needs. And, if necessary, Dr. Jackson can be back here in ...?”

She looked to Jack for guidance.

“Half an hour. Tops.”

MacKenzie looked from one to the other and seemed on the verge of arguing his case further but, with a slight sag of his shoulders, thought better of it and capitulated. “Very well. But I want it on record that I have strong reservations.”

“Duly noted,” Brightman confirmed.

The door closed behind MacKenzie with rather more force than Jack felt necessary.

“Thanks,” Jack said, quietly.

“Don’t thank me. I just didn’t want blood on my office floor. Very messy.” Brightman smiled at him. It was just a small smile but it did reach her eyes.

Somewhere, Jack thought Janet was grinning her approval.

>>>>> 

Infirmary chairs were officially the most uncomfortable seats Jack had ever occupied. He shifted from butt cheek to butt cheek, trying hard to ease the pressure on his lower back. He drained the last of the coffee from the mug and tried not to think about how long Daniel had been asleep. He yawned and stretched, his eyes gritty and sore. He hadn’t really slept on the plane ride, his brain stubbornly refusing to switch off.

Daniel had hardly moved since Jack had resumed his vigil and was showing no sign of waking up any time soon.

Jack tilted his head and drank in the sight of the man before him. _What’s going on your head, baby? What do you need?_

Without warning, Daniel opened his eyes, and was suddenly, completely awake and aware.

Jack leaned forward in his seat. Heart beating out of his chest, he smiled. “Hey,” he said, softly, hoping for the customary, “Hey,” in return. They’d greeted each other this way a thousand times.

Daniel blinked and didn’t move and didn’t acknowledge Jack at all.

“Been out for a while there, sleepyhead.” He tried to keep it light. Anything to conceal the sheer panic that was crowding in. “Had me worried.” By now, Jack got the message that this was going to be a one-sided conversation. His heart sank. This was not the reunion he’d fantasized about while trying to sleep on the Gulfstream.

Jack moved his chair a little closer to the bed and fought the urge to reach out and touch Daniel’s face; Daniel’s beautiful, familiar, expressionless face.

“If you feel up to it, I’m gonna bust you out tonight. My place, some pizza, a chance to sleep in a comfortable bed. Deal?” He spoke quietly, pitching his voice so that only Daniel could hear.

Blue eyes fixed unerringly on his, as though Daniel was concentrating really hard. He blinked, then licked his lips.

“You want some water?”

No response.

“Maybe sit up in bed?”

Nothing. Nothing but that unnerving, unwavering stare.

“Okay,” Jack whispered.

Daniel blinked and breathed, blinked and breathed.

“This chair has numbed my butt. It’s time we did the paperwork and got the hell out of here. That okay with you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll be back.” He rose slowly from his seat, his knees stiff, his back aching. Just as slowly, he bent towards Daniel, leaning in close, so close that he could feel Daniel’s breath on his face. It was like the sweetest breeze on a summer day. “Everything’s going to be fine, baby,” he whispered.

He smiled his most reassuring smile, turned away before his coping facade crumbled and went to dot the I’s and cross the T’s.

>>>>>> 

“You’ve managed to get Dr. MacKenzie and Dr. Brightman to agree to release Daniel?” Carter’s disbelief was echoed in the raise of Teal’c’s eyebrows.

“I can be very persuasive.” Jack took a sip of coffee and stared into the mug accusingly. “Was it always this bad, or have my taste buds just forgotten?”

Beside him, Carter peered into her own mug. “No, Sir. It’s always been this bad.”

The three of them were sitting in a quiet corner of the commissary. The evening meal rush was over and they had the place pretty much to themselves.

“So,” Jack began, placing his mug carefully on the table. Enough with the pleasantries. Time for The Conversation. “What the hell happened out there?” His initial anger had fallen away the moment he confirmed Daniel was safe with his own eyes but there were still questions to be asked.

Carter shifted in her seat, looking to Teal’c. That in itself told Jack she was uncomfortable, second-guessing her decisions as pro tem team leader.

“It had been a pretty quiet day,” Carter began, wrapping her hands firmly around her mug. “Fairly boring, actually. The planet was uninhabited, as expected, and we confined ourselves to mineral testing and searching for signs of past habitation. Daniel theorized it had been a Goa’uld-occupied world at some point and, if that was the case, we believed there would be evidence of abandoned naquadah mines in the area.

“We pitched camp by the river and I decided to set the watch because Teal’c had seen glimpses of wild animals, boar-like creatures we think, and we heard them, too, in the nearby forest. I assigned Daniel second watch; he was anxious to write up some journal notes but said it wouldn’t take long and then he’d sleep. So, I took first watch. It was all routine. As I handed over to Daniel, he seemed to want to talk, you know, like he sometimes does,” she smiled. It did little to ease the tension lines around her mouth. “So, I sat with him for a while and we talked.”

“About what?”

Carter shrugged. “We talked about what the future might hold for each of us; who might be assigned SG-1 leader; about how you would be settling into your new role. And he got kind of quiet.”

That hung in the air for a while.

What had happened between Jack and Daniel after Daniel’s first ascension, after they both decided life was too short and fuck it they’d earned some happiness, had never been mentioned, but, even though everyone else _thought_ they knew something, these two probably did and were protecting them in the best way they knew how. Jack loved them for it, and never more than right now.

Carter took a sip of coffee. “Then it got a little ... heavy. Daniel started talking about ascension and what it had been like. At least, what he could remember of it, which wasn’t much. It seemed to be on his mind. That, and change and loss and how we’d all been through so much.”

Jack digested that, motioning to Carter to continue.

“After a while, I left him to it and went to my tent and fell asleep. Teal’c woke me when he took third watch and said Daniel had gone. Sir, I swear, there was no indication that anything was wrong. There was no noise, no ... nothing.”

Jack nodded.

“Daniel Jackson is a resilient man, O’Neill. He has coped with many challenges in his life. What is happening to him now is merely one more. He will rise to this, as he has done in the past.”

Jack looked across the table to where Teal’c sat ramrod straight, a solid, reassuring presence. If you had Teal’c in your corner, you could take on the world.

“I like your thinking, Teal’c.” He shot him a smile, even though he didn’t feel as confident in Teal’c’s assertion as he would have liked.

“Will you be looking after Daniel at his apartment?” Carter asked.

“Nope. He hates that place. I’m taking him to my house.”

Carter blinked in surprise. “I thought the house was closed up, ready for sale?”

“It is. I’m sure Daniel can cope with a few packing cases and dust sheets. Be a test of that famous resilience.” He smiled at Teal’c, who didn’t return the smile but inclined his head in a way that said, “Yeah, I get it.”

“You’ll let us know if you need any help?” Carter -- anxious and eager to please, or, maybe appease.

Time to be the good CO. “I don’t you blame you for any of this, Carter. Let’s just focus on finding out what happened and making sure Daniel’s okay.”

Carter swallowed hard and nodded, eyes fixed on the table. It would take a while for her to be okay with what had happened.

“General Landry has ordered a final reconnaissance of the area where Daniel Jackson was found. Colonel Carter and I will be part of that mission tomorrow,” Teal’c said.

They sat together, finishing their coffee, lost in their own private thoughts. Eventually, Jack checked his watch and rose from his seat. Time to liberate Daniel.

“Okay, then,” he said, steeling himself. “Looks like we’ve all got work to do.”

>>>> 

“Make yourself at home,” Jack said brightly, swiping the sheets off the sofa in the living room and coughing as the dust motes rose and danced in the air.

Daniel watched him from the top of the stairs, his eyes tracking Jack’s every movement. He’d looked a little lost as he sat on the infirmary bed waiting for Jack to bring him here, but he followed readily enough when it was time to go. Now, he looked lost again.

“I mean, it’s not your home, obviously. It’s mine, at least it still is, for now. But I like to think it’s partly yours, too. We did spend a lot of time here. Together.”

It wasn’t the most subtle of prompts but, if Jack expected any kind of reaction, he was disappointed. Daniel watched him and said nothing. His facial expression gave nothing away.

“Take a seat,” Jack said, eventually. “I’ll make some coffee.” He wondered if he should guide him down the steps and onto the sofa but he hadn’t tried touching him at all; Brightman said Daniel hadn’t instigated any physical contact and hadn’t responded in any way to being handled. Jack didn’t want to spook him. He walked past Daniel and into the kitchen, along the way snagging the box of groceries that had been left on the doorstep by Walter, as per Landry’s orders.

“I’ll order pizza later. No anchovies, I promise,” Jack called as he made coffee. Reassuring Daniel he was there, even though he was out of sight, seemed a sensible thing to do. Without a _This is What to Do When the Man You Love Isn’t Communicating_ manual, Jack made it up as he went along, hoping all the time that he was doing the right thing.

Minutes later, mugs in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Daniel sitting on the sofa, hands by his sides, gaze following every move Jack made. Everything about him was studied, careful, so unlike the constant, fluid movement of body and mind that Jack was used to. It made Jack edgy, and ramped up his concern several notches.

“It’s not that expensive Ethiopian stuff you like but it’s hot and ... more or less drinkable.” He sat beside Daniel, not touching but supportively close, he hoped, and offered him a mug. When Daniel didn’t take it, Jack put it on the table.

“We could watch TV.” Daniel blinked then turned his gaze towards where the chess board used to sit. This was good, right? A sign of recognition. Or perhaps he just wanted to move his head, ease his neck muscles. It was all an unbelievably frustrating guessing game. “I could dig out the chess set if you want. I never pass up the chance to kick your butt. Not sure which box it’s in, but, hey, I love a challenge.” Daniel blinked again. “Or we could just sit. Sitting’s good.”

So they sat. Then Jack got up and fished out his old boom box from the carton labeled “Maybe throw out” in the corner and found an old Count Basie CD.

“Remember this one? Kansas City Powerhouse. You put up a more than spirited argument that this was his best album ever. Still think you’re wrong about that, by the way. Every Day I Have the Blues every time, baby.”

Jack regarded him thoughtfully from across the room. “Wouldn’t mind having that debate again sometime. I’d still be right, of course.”

Jack fancied he saw a flicker of a smile. It could just as easily have been the shadow from the table lamp playing across Daniel’s face. Christ, he wanted it to be a smile.

They sat some more, as Basie played on, Jack trying to relax and not inflict his growing tension on Daniel.

Just as Jack was thinking of making a move towards bed – and there was another minefield waiting to happen – he noticed that Daniel was studying the mantelpiece. Again and again, his gaze flicked along the empty shelf, now devoid of the photos that had made it home.

“The pictures are safe, Daniel. Packed away, ready for shipping out to D.C. Wouldn’t be home without that damn picture of you on that camel.” Who was he kidding? Jack loved that photograph; he’d kept it safe among Daniel’s personal stuff when he was away for that soul-destroying year and had never gotten around to giving it back. “You can help me unpack it when you visit.”

It was a promise of a future _. Their_ future. Together.

Right now, it felt a million miles away.

Jack took a long drink of now cold, stale coffee. He let the bitter taste distract him from the rising tide of fear that was threatening to swamp him and the questions that nagged and terrified.

_What if this is it? What if this is all there is of him now?_

He sat beside Daniel while late evening turned to night and wondered where the hell they went from here.

>>>>> 

Daniel fell asleep on the sofa that first night. Jack lay a blanket over him and put a pillow behind his head and watched him sleep from the chair across the room.

He’d done this so many times, watched over him in the aftermath of a mission gone wrong. Daniel had been ribboned, blasted by a staff weapon and had melted from the inside out and Jack had been beside him through it all. But this was something else, something more terrifying. Burns and blasts healed. Ascension had healed Daniel’s heart and given him the courage to go on. But this. This was mysterious and terrifying.

Jack fell into a restless sleep and, for the first time in many years, dreamed of Charlie.

He’d lost his son. He was not going to lose Daniel, too.

>>>>> 

The next day, Jack dug out out a small box of photographs, plonked himself down beside Daniel on the sofa and started to sort through them; Jack as a tousle-haired kid with his first crappie; Jack graduating from the Academy; Jack with his mom and dad at the cabin; Jack’s grandpa grinning as he fished on the family boat at the lake.

Daniel looked at each one, then back at Jack. Jack kept talking and sorting until he came to a shot of Daniel, Carter and Teal’c taken at a summer picnic with Cassie.

“Damn, Daniel. We all look so fucking young.” It felt like another lifetime ago. For Daniel, it arguably was.

“We should get the gang back together for a barbecue soon.”

Daniel stared at the picture. Jack could almost feel the mental cogs whirring. He tapped the image with his finger. “These people love you, Daniel. We all do.” The lump in his throat meant he couldn’t get anymore words out, so he put the photo on the sofa, got up and went out on the deck for some fresh air.

He’d been tortured and crawled through the desert on broken legs, but he’d never known pain like this. This was unbearable.

>>>>> 

Jack played Daniel a CD of Chopin nocturnes -- he’d heard Daniel playing Chopin on his piano once -- while they sipped hot chocolate together on the sofa and it rained outside like the world was ending.

_Maybe it is._

The doubts that they would get Daniel back, whole and truly himself, were multiplying and festering to the point where Jack wanted to scream.

He wondered if, on the inside, Daniel was screaming, too, trapped and desperate.

“I love you, Daniel,” he said, his voice blending with the song-like melodies and steady patter of rainfall. “And one day, you’ll tell me again that you love me. Because I know you do and I know you’ll never give up fighting to let me know. It took us years to say those words to each other, even though we both knew it for a long time. You’ve got to fight, okay? You have to fight.”

Jack sat beside the man he loved and watched the firelight shadows dance and play.

>>>>> 

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?”

Daniel lay on his side in their bed, covered by a sleeping bag Jack had dug out of a box in the garage. Jack sat in a chair, legs crossed at the ankles, feet resting on the mattress round about where Daniel’s chest was falling and rising steadily as he rested. Earlier, Jack had said that maybe it was time for bed and Daniel had risen from the sofa and headed straight to their bedroom. There had been no suggestion of taking the spare room. Jack was relieved on so many levels. Daniel was wearing one of Jack’s oldest, most comfortable T-shirts and a pair of his boxers. He’d undressed and dressed himself, automatically, without question. He looked so much like the Daniel who filled Jack’s life and heart with joy, until Jack looked at his face. Still blank. Still so heartbreaking.

“You know this house. I think you know me. Anytime you want to tell me, or show me, I’m right, is fine by me.”

Jack dropped his feet to the floor. “I’m here, Daniel. However long it takes.”

Daniel closed his eyes. At first, Jack wasn’t sure, he hardly dared believe he was right, but he looked more closely and saw a tear track down Daniel’s cheek, follow the line of nose and land on his closed lips. One tear. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen.

“Hey,” Jack sank carefully to his knees on the floor and lay his head next to Daniel’s on the pillow. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He reached out a tentative hand, wanting so desperately to wipe that tear away. “Can I touch you?”

Daniel opened his eyes. Was that a yes? What if it was no? What would happen if Jack touched him and Daniel didn’t want that? Taking a deep breath, Jack reached out gentle, shaking fingers and took the risk his heart was begging him to take. With his forefinger, he touched the wetness, brushed it softly from Daniel’s lips and risked running his thumb across Daniel’s cheek. His beard was softer than he expected. It felt so good beneath his fingers. Emboldened, he moved his thumb up to Daniel’s eyebrow and stroked it, slowly, once, twice. He did this when Daniel had bad headaches after pulling all-nighters, after tough missions. _Do you recognize this? Do you know this?_ On up into his hairline, he ran his hand over Daniel’s head, cupping, stroking, loving. To touch him again was a balm to his frayed nerves.

“Can I kiss you?” Jack’s throat was dry and the words came out ragged and barely there.

Slowly, Daniel closed his eyes. Jack watched in a kind of wonder as his lashes touched his cheek.

Jack hitched closer, still stroking Daniel, almost petting him in a tender act of reassurance, and he brushed his lips against Daniel’s, just brushed, slowly, over and over, with the lightest of pressure. The lips were dry but the shape and feel of them was known and so, so loved.

With one last gentle touch, Jack pulled back. He smiled. Daniel didn’t smile back.

Carefully, Jack got up from the floor on complaining knees. He climbed onto the bed and settled behind Daniel. Slowly, he put an arm across his waist and let it rest there. After some minutes, he snuggled in closer and tightened his hold. Burying his face in Daniel’s neck, he breathed him in.

It smelled like heaven.

It felt like home.

Jack fell asleep with his arms and heart full of Daniel.

>>>> 

The next day, Daniel sat in a lawn chair in the sunshine. He seemed to enjoy the feel of the breeze on his face. He slept a lot. He drank lemonade and nibbled Carter’s home-made chocolate chip and walnut cookies. He remained unresponsive.

Jack did some yard work to be close by, broke off frequently to talk to him. When he talked, he touched him, stroked his knee and his face, ruffled his hair. Smiled.

 _As long as it takes_.

It became his mantra.

>>>>> 

The day after that, Carter and Teal’c came to the house and the four of them spent an excruciating few hours playing Everything is Normal. The problem with that was it merely accentuated the fact that nothing was normal.

Jack found Carter surreptitiously wiping her face as she left the bathroom after beating a hasty retreat from a conversation about what the future held for the team. Teal’c was making ominous noises about leaving for Dakara and working with the Jaffa Council. Jack had said nothing. Teal’c had every right to follow where his heart led, whatever that meant for SG-1. Carter watched Teal’c and kept her counsel but Jack sensed her restlessness and unhappiness. The final recon mission she had led, with Teal’c by her side, had thrown up no clues about what had happened to Daniel. Test after test, search after search, had revealed nothing. They were at a dead end. Science, the one thing that always held Carter together, had failed her. She looked as tired as he felt. He gave her the hug.

“It’ll be okay,” Jack said as he held her.

The words sounded hollow. They usually did when you didn’t believe what you were saying.

>>>>> 

“And he hasn’t spoken at all?” Brightman, calling for her regular sit rep.

“Not a word.” Jack continued to wash the dishes in the sink, the phone jammed precariously between shoulder and ear.

“But he responds to you?”

“Not really. There was a tear once, no real crying, and ...” god he hated talking about this stuff, “he seems to be okay with some level of physical contact.”

Brightman didn’t push for more info on that. Jack was nothing but grateful.

“So, no signs of any regression, but none of progress either.”

“Kinda hard to think he can regress further when everything about his condition screams ultimate regression in the first place, don’t you think?” He was snippy and he knew it, but he was tired and frustrated and no one had any answers. “Sorry,” he sighed.

“It’s okay, General. We share your frustration.”

_You really don’t. You don’t know the half of it._

“Look. Is there anything I should be doing that I’m not doing? Because, honestly, I’m running out of ideas here.” Jack rinsed the plates and stood them in the rack. He found everyday tasks calmed him. They allowed him to switch off his overactive brain for a while. He was actually looking forward to mowing the lawn and putting out the trash later.

“I think you’re doing all the right things. You’re keeping him safe, quiet and comfortable, allowing him the space for his mind to heal, if that’s what is preventing him from communicating.”

Jack wiped his hands on the dish towel.

“You’re thinking it’s all in his head.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but, the longer it goes on, the more I’m inclined to believe that Dr. Jackson’s issues are psychological rather than physical. Dr. MacKenzie agrees with me.” Brightman went quiet, then said, carefully, “He has asked me if you would consider returning Dr. Jackson to the Mountain.”

Jack felt himself tense, his defensive hackles rising. “What for?”

“He would just like to talk to Dr. Jackson a little more. Try to gauge if there is any change in his cognitive status.”

Jack balled up the cloth and threw it onto the kitchen counter.

“I’ve told you. He’s no worse and he’s no better. I don’t need to have multiple degrees in quackery to deduce that. Daniel stays here. If MacKenzie wants to argue the toss, get him to call me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Doc?”

“Yes, General?”

“Do you think ... I mean, what are the chances ...”

“General. I’m sorry. I don’t have the answers you want to hear. If we figure anything out, _anything,_ you’ll be the first to know.”

Jack closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. “Sure. Thanks. Bye.”

Pity it was only 9.45am. He really needed a drink.

>>>>> 

By 9.45pm, Jack was on his second beer and flicking through some of Daniel’s books that he’d casually left on the coffee table, hoping they might spark some interest.

Daniel was sitting beside him on the sofa, eyes fixed resolutely on Jack. It was unsettling. Jack put the book down – some dusty tome on pre-dynastic Egypt – and turned to face him. Slowly, so as not to startle him, he took Daniel’s hand.

“What are you looking for when you look at me so intently, huh? I mean, I do know just how damned fascinating I am but ...” He smiled and squeezed Daniel’s cold fingers, pressing warmth and love into them. “Whatever it is, I hope you’re finding it, because I’m all in, here. We’re doing this together. Every step of the way.”

Daniel blinked slowly, then again, his eyelids fighting to stay open.

“Wanna sleep? We can snuggle right here.”

Gently, he pulled Daniel to him, wrapping him securely in his arms, and slid them down, turning them onto their sides as they went. Jack sighed and buried his face in Daniel’s hair. He mouthed a kiss.

He fell into a doze quickly, and dreamed of making love to Daniel on the dock at the cabin, the way they had done last summer after a long, lazy lunch and a nap in the sun; he heard him cry out as he came, a raw, broken, tender sound.

From the depths of sleep, Jack screamed silently.

He was forgetting what Daniel’s voice sounded like.

>>>> 

“Daniel? Might want to smarten yourself up a little. We have a visitor coming. General Hammond’s stopping by.” Jack raised his voice so that he would be heard over the shower. He laid out a pair of jeans and a new-ish black sweatshirt on the bed, courtesy of a clothes raid on Daniel’s apartment by Carter.

Daniel appeared in the doorway, naked, dripping and holding onto a bath towel, and looked at Jack. He was so beautiful, the water running down his face and body, down to his heavy, beautiful cock and down athletic, softly-furred legs. Jack swallowed hard. He missed loving that body so badly. He missed Daniel loving his body every bit as much. He wondered if they’d ever share that again. He wrenched his gaze from the hypnotic contours of hip and waist and looked at Daniel’s face. It bore the same damned look that had been fixed there ever since they got Daniel back. The lack of expression freaked Jack out more than anything. Daniel’s face was always mobile; his mouth, his eyes, his eyebrows rarely at rest. They defined him. What Jack saw now wasn’t his Daniel.

His Daniel was not passive. His Daniel was not compliant.

Daniel did whatever Jack suggested but never took the initiative. It was like he wasn’t programed to think, merely to follow instruction.

He missed his Daniel so fucking much.

“George will be here soon. I’m going to make some lunch. Thought we could eat outside. It’s a beautiful day.”

Daniel stood where he was, the water pooling at his feet.

“You might want to dry off, there.”

No movement.

“Need some help?” _Oh god, no, I can’t ... I can’t touch you like that and not want you, and I can’t want you right now. I can’t. But I ache for you._

Daniel turned away and walked back into the bathroom. Jack let out a stuttering breath. He was shaking. He couldn’t afford to waste energy on sublimating his need; he had no energy to spare. Pushing all thought away, he headed for the kitchen and got on with preparing lunch. He was better when he was physically occupied.

Cold cuts and salad at the ready, he went out back and waited for Daniel to join him and for George to arrive.

>>>>> 

“I hope you like it, Dr. Jackson. The man in the book shop assured me it’s the best of its kind.”

Hammond held out the impressive coffee table book on Mesoamerican antiquities, clearly hoping it would be taken from his hands. When it wasn’t, Jack took it from him.

“Thanks. That’s really thoughtful, Sir. I’ll just leave it here for now.” He placed it on the table in front of Daniel and watched Daniel’s gaze shift from him to Hammond and back again.

Some things took some getting used to. Seeing Hammond in civilian clothes was one of them. He was still a powerful presence, Jack noted, uniform or no uniform. It was a mark of the man.

“It’s good to see you,” Jack said, easing into the seat beside Daniel.

“You, too, Jack. Truth is, I didn’t need to be at the meeting at the Mountain in person today but I wanted to take the opportunity to see how things were with you and Dr. Jackson.” Hammond settled into a seat opposite Jack and Daniel.

“We’re ... getting by.” Jack put food on plates and poured glasses of iced tea. It was early Fall, and the days were still warm, clear and bright, even if the nights were cold enough for fires.

“We’re very happy to have you back.” Hammond spoke to Daniel, all the while assessing. He was a fine commanding officer, who cared about his people. Jack knew what this must be doing to him. “I felt I should give you a heads up,” he added carefully, addressing Jack, shooting a wary look at Daniel. Jack gave a slight nod. _Whatever you’re going to say, he should hear it._

“Being new to your Pentagon role, and given that there was some surprise and a little opposition in certain quarters over your appointment, you are being scrutinized rather more closely than might be expected. There has been some ... comment ... over the amount of time you’re taking concerning Dr. Jackson’s situation. You’re not family, Jack. Technically, you’re not even part of the SG-1 family anymore. It has raised a few eyebrows, shall we say.”

Jack had long thought Hammond, as astute and loyal a CO as Jack had ever served under, knew about how things were between him and Daniel. He was pretty sure Hammond saw Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell for the crock of shit it was, but he respected him too much to ask openly, even now.

“Dr. Jackson’s value to the program is immeasurable, and because of that, I’ve been able to deflect the political pressure so far.”

 _So far._ Jack tensed. He’d guessed some of this; hearing it confirmed a few unpalatable things.

Hammond relaxed a little, his features resolving into a reassuring half-smile. “But you should know that the President is determined Dr. Jackson should have whatever is required to restore him to health and to the Stargate program.”

And Hammond’s look told Jack clearly, _And if that means you, then so be it._

Hammond had their backs. He always had, always would. That was never in question. And that was more than enough for Jack.

“That’s good to know, Sir.”

“Drop the Sir, Jack.”

Jack took a sip of tea. Too sweet. Damn. He never got it right. Daniel’s was always perfect.

“Old habits, George.”

Hammond tucked into his salad. “I meant to drop by your Pentagon office and welcome you officially but I never made it. Did you feel you were settling in?”

“Oh, you know. Early days. I worked, I slept, then I worked some more and slept some more. Or I did. Before Daniel went missing. Kind of screwed up my awesomely thrilling routine.” Jack stabbed a piece of honey-glazed ham viciously.

Hammond huffed a laugh. “You’re flying a Washington desk now, Jack. You can hardly be surprised that the thrill has gone.”

“Yeah, well. My priorities have shifted somewhat lately.”

Daniel was picking at his food. He ate mechanically, because he had to eat. He seemed to derive no enjoyment from it. Jack had tempted him with a range of his favourites but he might as well have served commissary meatloaf.

“Understandably so, Jack. I’d be shocked if that weren’t the case.”

They ate in silence for a while, Daniel laying down his fork long before Jack and Hammond had finished.

“Tired?” Jack asked Daniel, wiping his own mouth with a napkin. “Maybe take a nap. George won’t mind.”

“Get some rest, Dr. Jackson. The sooner you’re well, the sooner you’ll be back. You are missed, son.”

Daniel rose from the table and gave Hammond a long, blank stare.

Hammond smiled. “Feel better.”

Daniel headed for the house. Jack placed his napkin on his plate, his appetite gone. Hammond continued to eat, filling Jack in with Pentagon water cooler gossip as he did; Vidrine was about to retire; Major Davis had taken up squash.

After a while, Jack offered Hammond a beer, which he declined, and took one for himself. He sat beside his former CO, watching the afternoon sun turn a glorious red. It would be a chilly evening. They talked about Mitchell, about the President’s hopes for the program, about anything but Daniel.

Finally, Hammond’s cell buzzed and his car arrived to take him to Peterson. As they reached the front door, he placed a hand on Jack’s arm. “Hang in there, Jack. I’ll fend off the pressure in D.C. as long as I can, you have my word on that, and you have the highest authority in the land right behind you. Just ... be careful. Washington is not Colorado Springs. Things would be very different and whole lot better if it were.”

Jack nodded.

Hammond’s car drove away and Jack closed the door, leaning heavily against it. He was so tired, the kind of mentally numbing tired he hated. Physically tired, now that was something else. He could deal with that.

He reached into his pocket for his cell and dialed Carter.

“Carter? Can you come over? I need to get out of here.”

>>>>> 

The steady rhythm of his feet on the sidewalk helped blot out the thoughts raging through his brain. He didn’t run much these days, preferring instead to cycle – it was easier on the joints-- but sometimes only the punishing pounding of legs and heartbeat would do. He hit the five-mile mark and sped up, his breath coming in harsh, noisy gasps. He didn’t care about the growing pain in his knees, he welcomed it. He’d pay for it tomorrow, with painful joints and sore back, but that was tomorrow. Today, right now, he wanted to feel something other than the total helplessness and despair that was filling his mind and threatening to overwhelm him.

He forced himself up a steady incline, his pace never slackening, and ran down the other side on legs that felt like overcooked spaghetti.

He pushed hard, too hard, sweat running in stinging, painful rivers down his face.

_Fuck this. Fuck this. I miss him. I need him. Fuck this._

By the time his house was in sight, he was crying freely, and didn’t give a fuck. He drew in huge, shuddering gulps of air, realizing that he was on the point of passing out.

Images of Daniel smiling up at him as they made love, of Daniel arguing passionately at some otherwise long-forgotten briefing, of Daniel holding him close as they said a difficult goodbye when Jack left for Washington swirled and mixed with newer, more painful pictures of Daniel sitting, impassive, unmoving beside him, not smiling or reaching out or being the Daniel he loved and cherished.

It was too much to bear.

He couldn’t stand being so fucking ineffectual.

There had to be something more he could do.

He stopped at his front door and leaned against it, fists clenched, breathing hard, in and out, in and out. And as he fought for breath, he had one single moment of absolute clarity. He saw everything with a simplicity that had been missing. His thoughts had been so tortured and crowded. But not now.

He let his breathing steady and found himself filled with the kind of peace that had been beyond him since Daniel’s disappearance.

He was so calm it was shocking.

Taking one final, deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and went inside.

>>>>> 

“I can stay longer,” Carter said.

“It’s okay. Thanks. I’m okay. I’ve got this.” _Go, leave, please._

“At least while you take a shower. Must have been a hard run.” She looked puzzled, concerned. He must have looked a sight, covered in sweat, and he was pretty sure she’d spotted the tears, and he was being almost rudely eager to get rid of her.

“I’m good. We’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” She was tangling her fingers in her sweater. He hadn’t seen her this uncomfortable since she’d turned up on his deck and found him playing house with Kerry Johnson.

“I’m sure _.” Certain, sure, certain, please, just go._

She bit her lip, gaze straying to where Daniel sat in the living room, listening to some opera CD she’d found in a box.

“Carter...”

“Okay, I’m going. You’ll call, though. If you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks for coming over.”

She gave Jack one long, last, assessing look, called goodbye to Daniel and left.

And then it was just Jack, Daniel, anda show-stopping Pavarotti aria. _La Boheme. Good choice. Daniel doesn’t care for opera but he cares for me, so he puts up with it._

He went to the bathroom, threw cold water on his face, drank a couple of full glasses and wiped himself down with a towel.

In the living room, Daniel was exactly where Jack had left him. Jack sat beside him and took one of his hands in both of his. Daniel turned his head to face him.

“Listen, Daniel. I’ve made a decision. It’s the best one, for both of us. And, honestly? It’s probably the easiest one I’ll ever make.”

He squeezed Daniel’s hand tightly, then stroked his thumb gently over the back of his hand. He needed Daniel to hear this.

“I’m going to hand in my papers. I’ll call Hammond later today. He’ll expedite matters, I’m sure of it.”

Daniel blinked, the way Daniel did these days.

“It’s the right thing to do. I hate being out of the field. I hate not being out there with you. I hate being without you, end of story.”

Jack raised his hand and cupped the back of Daniel’s neck, bringing their foreheads together, and god, that intimate contact felt good.

“We’ll go to the cabin for a while. It’s peaceful. Just you, me and no fish. We can hike and take the boat out. Sit on the dock and watch the sun go down; stay there until the sun comes up again, if we want. We’ve paid our dues, Daniel, and you’ve paid the highest price of all. Time for a fresh start. What do you say?”

Jack’s thumb stroked the warm skin on Daniel’s neck and it felt so good that he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

That’s when he felt a faint puff of air against his face.

Then another.

It was the lightest whisper of breath, but it was there.

And it was coming from Daniel.

Startled, Jack opened his eyes and pulled back, still cradling Daniel’s neck.

Daniel’s mouth, his beautiful, full, precious mouth, was trying to form a word.

“Daniel?” He spoke softly, hardly daring to speak at all.

A puff of air became a whispered word. Just one word.

Jack heard, “Really.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Daniel, I really am going to quit. I really am.” Jack’s heart was pounding out of his chest, his speech resolving into relieved laughter.

Daniel shook his head. A frown creased his brow and he appeared agitated.

“No.” It came out louder, even though his voice was scratchy and thin.

Daniel slowly raised a hand and touched Jack’s chest.

“Real,” he said again.

And this time Jack got it. He placed his hand over Daniel’s and held it tight against his heart.

“Yeah, baby. I’m real. This is real. Oh god, it’s real.”

He pulled Daniel to him in a hug that he fought to keep from tightening to the point of crushing. He’d wanted this so much. He hardly dared believe it was happening.

_Daniel’s talking, he’s talking ..._

Daniel’s body was shaking, his breathing was erratic but he managed to put his arms around Jack.

_I’ve been longing for this ..._

“Oh, god, Daniel. God ...”

“Real,” Daniel said. “This is real.”

They clung together, like two dazed drowning men who had finally spotted the rescue ship on the horizon.

They pulled apart, then met each other half-way to hug again, Jack very much aware that the laughter bubbling up inside and overflowing was more akin to hysteria than delight. It was emotional overload, too many feelings to acknowledge or process, so he just let them come and let them be.

“It’s real, it’s real.” Jack whispered it over and over again into Daniel’s hair, anchoring Daniel to the here and now. His mouth brushed Daniel’s ear, his lips kissed his face tenderly. Kiss after kiss. Joyous. Loving. Touching, touching him, he couldn’t stop touching. He pulled away, held Daniel’s face in his hands and looked at him, really looked. Where there had been wariness and distance, there was ... Daniel. _His_ Daniel. His eyes, recently so shuttered, were filled with life and joyful disbelief. His face, previously so tight and expressionless, was relaxing, second by second, and becoming open, readable. So _fucking_ beautiful.

And then Daniel smiled, and it was like the lights going on again in Jack’s world. It wasn’t a there-and-gone smile, or a wry, sarcastic mouth-turned-up-at-the-corners smile. It was a genuine, warm, bright-as-day smile. Jack had seen it only a few times before; the first time when Daniel had been kept back by Hammond, like the best present on Christmas morning, when he’d returned alive, oh god _alive,_ from Apophis’s ship.

It was something Jack feared he’d never see again.

It was sunshine.

It was everything.

Daniel raised his hand to cup Jack’s face with a terrible, aching tenderness. With his other hand, he traced Jack’s eyebrows, nose, cheekbones and jaw, mapping, remembering. Saying _hi, I remember this, I missed this._ And all the time, Daniel’s body was melting into the memory of what, of who, he was. Jack could feel it in every tendon, every muscle, every inch of skin.

“Hi, baby,” Jack whispered, taking a moment, holding himself still so that he could drink in every precious second of this.

“Hi,” Daniel breathed through that shining smile.

Nothing had ever been more real.

>>>>> 

It was before 9am when Brightman arrived at the house the next morning, sat beside Daniel on the bed and opened up her bag of tricks. Quietly, diligently, she went about her business. Eventually, she took off the blood pressure cuff, removed the thermometer from Daniel’s mouth and picked up the penlight from the bedside cabinet.

“No.” Daniel said, firmly.

“It’s just to test pupil reaction, Dr. Jackson.”

“No.” He said it more forcefully. His voice was still strained and croaky and he found it hard to string long sentences together because of it. He was beyond frustrated and Jack could read the signs well enough from the other side of their bedroom, even if Brightman plowed on regardless.

“How about you give the light in the eye thing a miss, Doc?”

Brightman considered her next move and put the penlight back in her bag. “We can do this another time. His reluctance could stem from the previous photosensitivity.”

“Ya think?” Jack engaged his mouth before his brain. Brightman wasn’t the enemy, or the problem, here. He was so damned turned around by Daniel’s speech returning that his filters weren’t what they should have been.

Daniel shifted slowly on the bed, sitting up straighter. “Am here you know,” he said, throwing them a look that told them exactly what he thought about them talking over him.

“Sorry,” Jack said, grimacing, and straightening up from where he lounged in the open doorway.

“You seem fine, Dr. Jackson. I can prescribe something to ease the throat but I warn you, it tastes awful.”

“Not so bad. Eaten Jack’s steak.” Daniel pulled a face.

Jack pulled one back.

Brightman smiled at Daniel. “Just take it easy. You need to rest.” She turned to Jack. “And no work. I insist.”

“I’m on it, Doc.”

Brightman rose from the bed and gathered her things. “Keep in touch,” she said to Jack as she angled past him on her way out. Jack followed her to the door.

“I’ll fend MacKenzie off as long as I can,” Brightman threw over her shoulder, “but he will want to talk to Dr. Jackson, sooner rather than later, and there will have to be a full psych eval before he’s cleared for duty.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Daniel can handle MacKenzie.” Jack felt confident. The unsuspecting quack was in for a full blast of Jackson bullshit, snark and deflection, he was sure. “Thanks for the house call,” he added.

“It’s not something I do for all my patients. But it’s good to get off base sometimes. Remind myself there is world out here. That people have lives, and that I really need to get one.”

Jack smiled. He held the front door open. “You would get on great with Carter. Lot in common.”

Brightman smiled ruefully, and turned as she reached her car. “Dr. Jackson is making a remarkable recovery, General, but it won’t all be plain sailing. Call if you need anything.”

He sketched a salute and watched as he she reversed out of his driveway and headed back to the Mountain.

>>>> 

Jack sat across the lunch table and watched Daniel move his grilled cheese around his plate.

“Not hungry?” he asked, carefully. The road to recovery was scattered with eggshells.

Daniel shook his head. He looked rumpled and grumpy. His aggravation, although apparently aimed at Jack, was obviously self-directed.

“We have soup.”

Daniel shook his head again.

“Hey. I’ve spent way too long holding one-sided conversations with you. The least you can do is diss my cooking out loud.”

Daniel sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He appeared irritable, confined within his skin. “Sorry.” He held up a hand, got up from the table, pushed the chair back with some force and walked away.

More than a few conversations had ended this way.

Jack decided to let him be. He’d done that a lot lately, too.

>>>>> 

They lay in bed, Daniel’s head resting on Jack’s chest, his arm lying across Jack’s waist. Jack savored every second of contact with Daniel’s skin. He adored the feel of Daniel’s beard against his chest hair. He felt very close to him, emotionally, despite the frustrations Daniel was obviously having with himself, and, by default, with Jack. Not close sexually, though. Daniel didn’t seem interested and Jack wouldn’t press the matter. Too many other things were much more important.

For now, holding Daniel, being close, being there, was enough.

Jack stroked Daniel’s hair, his fingers loving the soft, familiar texture. He placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. He couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Jack,” Daniel said, softly, as if trying the word out for size.

Jack smiled into Daniel’s hair. “Right here.”

“Jack.” And there was that smile, again, the Megawatt Special. Jack couldn’t see it but he could sense it, feel it against his skin. Jack wanted more of it; smiles like that should not be confined to returns from the dead or emergence from the Twilight Zone.

“I like to hear that, especially when you’re not about to rip me a new one for something. You can make my name into a damned scary weapon when you want to.”

Daniel lifted his head and propped himself up on his elbow, head resting on his hand. There was no fear in him now, not in his expression and not in his body language. He was comfortable, at ease with himself and with Jack.

“Jack. My Jack.”

Jack mirrored Daniel’s position, the sheet rucking up beneath him, tangling in his legs. The linen had been retrieved from the packing case and the sleeping bags consigned to the garage when it became clear they would be here awhile.

“Your Jack. I like that better.”

Daniel leaned in and took a long, slow kiss, a soft contented sound coming from somewhere deep inside. He tasted of coffee and potato chips, legacy of a mutual decision to ignore Brightman’s healthy eating advice and have whatever the fuck they wanted. They figured they’d earned that.

When Jack pulled back, he began drawing lazy circles on Daniel’s chest, the need to keep touching intense. There would never be a good time to ask the one question he needed to ask, but while they were close and calm, now seemed as good a time as any, and better he ask than MacKenzie. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Daniel frowned, his body tensing, his gaze skittering around the room. It was a pretty clear indication of his answer.

“Tired,” he said, without meeting Jack’s eyes.

“Okay. That’s okay. It’s getting late. Let me just ...” Jack turned over and switched off the light. He waited to see where Daniel would settle and was hugely relieved when Daniel reached for him and snuggled in.

“No retirement,” Daniel whispered.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

Jack lay awake long after he felt Daniel’s body relax into sleep.

>>>>> 

“I want to tell you what happened. I do. I _will._ ”

Jack was in the garage, adjusting the chain on Harriman’s cycle. He’d borrowed it so that he and Daniel could take easy, fitness-building rides into the foothills. Harriman obviously didn’t use it much. It needed a good overhaul. It did the job of getting Daniel out and about, though. Jack was grateful for that. He wiped his hands on an oily rag.

“Whenever you’re ready, Daniel.”

Daniel rifled through Jack’s toolbox, not really looking for anything.

“This is harder than it should be. I’m sorry.” His voice was gaining strength with every day that passed.

Jack tested the chain tension, pushing the pedals around. “Don’t be. This isn’t about me. You’ll get there.”

Daniel nodded. “Thanks.”

_No problem. No problem at all. Just make it soon. Please god._

>>>>>>> 

Daniel started reading books -- not work-related books, Jack made sure of that – anything he could get his hands on from the depths of Jack’s packing cases ; crime novels, recipe books, astronomy guides. He couldn’t concentrate for long and it frustrated him. He’d put the book down, shrug into his jacket and walk around the yard, hands in pockets, eyes on the ground, sometimes for an hour or more. He didn’t ask for company.

Much of the time, he appeared lost in his own thoughts.

Jack began to wonder if he’d ever share them.

>>>>> 

“I love you.”

Daniel said it out of the blue, while they were unpacking groceries.

Jack paused with a jar of peanut butter in his hand. Daniel played with a pack of coffee beans.

“That’s ... good to hear.” It was _great_ to hear. It was the best thing ever.

“I thought I should say the words, since I, you know, can.”

Daniel picked at the label on the coffee pack, looked at the floor, nodded, and went on sorting the shopping.

Jack stored the jar and didn’t bother trying to hide the grin on his face. He was learning how to smile again. It felt great.

>>>> 

“I want to work,” Daniel said, throwing the newspaper to the floor from the comfort of the couch, where he lay stretched out, feet in Jack’s lap.

“Not gonna happen.” Jack picked the paper up and slid out the sports section, folding it to his satisfaction.

“Fuck, Jack, I can speak in whole sentences now and everything. I need to be working.” He tilted his head back and banged it against the arm of the sofa.

“You’re not ready.”

“Says you.”

“Yes. Says me.”

“I’m going stir crazy.”

“You’re not ready and you know it.”

Daniel sat up, planted his feet on the floor and clasped his hands together so tightly his knuckles went white.

“There is nothing wrong with me.”

Jack ran his fingers down the crease of the paper, making a nice, neat edge. As casually as he could manage, without lacing the words with potentially harmful sarcasm, he said, “So tell me what happened to you.”

Daniel’s head turned sharply in Jack’s direction, his eyes the kind of blazing blue that meant nothing but trouble. “Fuck you.”

“I’m not asking you anything MacKenzie and his team of shrubs won’t ask before they let you back on the team.”

“I can handle MacKenzie.” Daniel was on his feet and pacing the room.

“I’m sure you can. Pretty certain you can play him like a Stradivarius. Doesn’t mean you’ll get yourself clear of whatever shit is in your head.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert now? Dr. O’Neill is it? Two LLs, one of which stands for licenced psychiatrist.”

“I know something about dealing with crappy stuff that happens, yes. Iraq, Charlie, divorce, pain, torture, losing you. Proof enough?”

“Well, you don’t know about this.”

“No, I don’t. Because you won’t tell me.” Jack felt his aggravation levels rise along with the volume. Patience never was his strongest suit and he was really proving it today. He’d sworn, he’d _sworn_ , he wouldn’t lose his temper like this. Nothing good ever came of them sniping and hurting.

“I can’t tell you because I don’t understand it myself, okay? I’m trying to make it make sense.” Daniel stopped pacing to run his hands through his hair. His body language spoke louder than the words that were coming out through gritted teeth.

“Then let me help you.” Exasperation was winning out.

“I ...”

Daniel threw his hands up in the air and let them fall, slapping his sides. He looked so lost, so angry. Jack couldn’t bear it.

“Daniel?” He spoke softly, trying to take the sting out of the conversation.

Daniel shook his head, a hissed, “god,” escaping his lips. “I’m taking a walk. Alone.”

Jack threw the sports pages on the floor. It took everything he had not to follow the paper down and bang his head on the floor. Repeatedly.

>>>>>> 

Eight days after Daniel started talking again, Carter turned up on the doorstep in the afternoon armed with a tub of ice-cream and a distracted expression. She and Daniel had talked on the phone a couple of times, long, easy, not-deep conversations that had seemed to steady Daniel when things became a little overwhelming.

She sat with Daniel in the yard, soaking up the melancholy rays of the Fall sunshine. They each had a spoon and were digging into the tub while they talked. Carter ate the most, from Jack’s not so subtle observations. Ice-cream equalled anxiety in Carter World. This did not bode well.

Jack left them to it. He figured they had stuff to hash out, even though none of the blame for what had happened to Daniel lay with Carter, and they were also probably talking about what Teal’c’s next move would be. It would, and probably should, have been on Jack’s mind, too, if he weren’t so consumed with Daniel’s recovery.

He went into the spare bedroom and started sorting boxes. Everything had been pretty much packed, ready for shipping or storage, before he’d brought Daniel back here and chaos took over. It was time to reorganize, repack.

“Sir, can I have a word?”

Carter appeared in the doorway, standing there for all the world like a nervous cadet called before a tyrannical CO.

“Carter?” He put a pile of motorcycle manuals into a box and closed the lid.

“I’ve been talking to General Landry. There is a suggestion that there’s a role for me out at Area 51.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, carefully assimilating the wording she’d just used.

“A suggestion. And whose suggestion might that be?”

Carter bit her lip. “Mine. Sir.”

“Yours.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And that role is?”

“I want to take command of Stargate R&D. It’s been mooted before. I’ve been given to understand the role is open for me whenever I want it.”

Jack picked up a roll of duct tape and began to seal up the box. He tried to ignore the metaphor of the ripping sound of the adhesive; he’d begun the tearing apart of SG-1 when became base CO. He could hardly cry foul when others wanted to move on, too.

“And now is the right time because?”

“Because I feel like the time is right career-wise. Whoever comes in as leader of SG-1 won’t welcome a pro tem leader under him, or her, probably him. He’ll most likely see that as a threat to his command. And because it will allow me to be closer to Cass for a while. My hours will be more flexible and I can spend some time with her. I think she needs someone. _Me,_ Sir. She coped well with Janet’s death initially but I think the reality of life without her is finally starting to sink in.”

All very plausible, and all very valid, but ...

“This has nothing to do with what happened to Daniel?”

“No.” It was fairly vehement and possibly a case of the lady protesting too much. She was fighting valiantly but the sag of shoulders gave it away. “Maybe.”

“Look, Carter ...”

“I think I just want a break from field work, Sir. It’s been a long time, and I would really, _really_ love to get back to some pure science. I don’t expect anyone to understand.” She frowned, lowering her head.

Jack heard the unspoken _Least of all you_ loud and clear.

“I get it, Sam. And you should, too.” Daniel, employing stealth mode and sidling up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his sister-of-the-heart, spearing Jack with a fierce look.

Jack glanced from one to the other. They’d come a long way, these two, and knew exactly how to double team him. He loved them both, and that hadn’t always been an easy thing. Letting go was hard.

“It’s not my call.” He smoothed down the tape, concentrating on the task at hand. He hated these conversations.

“Maybe not directly, but they’ll ask you what you think and you do have clout.”

Jack gave Daniel the look. “I think I liked you better when you couldn’t speak.”

“Well, now I can. And I can say the stuff that Sam can’t.”

“Daniel, it’s okay.” Carter shifted uncomfortably. Jack knew she hated getting caught in the crossfire between him and Daniel.

“No, Sam. It’s not.”

Daniel was winding up to let loose, Jack could feel it, and he got it -- Daniel felt helpless about what was happening to him but he could possibly make things better for Sam. It was some sort of cosmic trade off.

“Hey,” Jack picked up the box of books and hefted it onto a pile of two others. “We don’t get to choose the job we do to make Earth safe. We do what has to be done.”

“Sam would be perfect at R&D. In the context of the changes that are happening with SG-1 it makes perfect sense.”

“To the civilian. And who says there are changes?” Now was not the time to spill the Mitchell beans but he needed to safeguard the existing entity that was SG-1 if he could. He was The Man after all.

Daniel sighed. “SG-1 works better as a four-person unit with complementary skills and everyone knows it. This past year was an interregnum. It’s obvious that changes are coming. Don’t insult our intelligence by denying it.”

Damn. Way too perceptive and savvy.

Jack tapped the box with his fingertips. S-O-S in Morse Code. Maybe Teal’c would show up with donuts.

“Okay. Carter, I’ll talk to Landry. It’s his call ultimately. I won’t recommend you but I won’t stand in the way if you get the nod.”

Carter visibly relaxed. She shot Daniel a grateful look then turned those big blues on him. “Thank you, Sir.”

Jack turned his attention to the next box. It contained his grandmother’s Worcester china tea service. He wouldn’t be heartbroken if the odd cup got broken. He’d never liked it. Better try to keep it intact though. Keep his mom sweet.

>>>>> 

Snuggled on the sofa, Daniel pulled in close, his back tight to Jack’s chest, Jack fiddled with the TV remote to find something Daniel might like to watch. Carter’s visit yesterday seemed to have unsettled him and he’d been quiet all day. He seemed distracted, rather than thoughtful. Jack hit on some program about Antarctica. Not the best choice. Brought back some not particularly pleasant memories.

On screen, Emperor penguins braved icy winds in a mass huddle, protecting the precious eggs nestled precariously on their feet.

“Do you remember anything from when you were in stasis?” Daniel asked after some minutes, eyes fixed on the icy images.

Jack stroked the back of Daniel’s hand with his thumb. He loved holding him safe this way, arms and legs wrapped loosely around him. Maybe feeling safe would allow Daniel to talk. Jack really needed him to talk.

“Not a thing.”

“Did you dream?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t recall much about what happened after we were on the ship. I know I went to sleep looking at you and I woke up looking at you. That made it bearable.” He kissed the back of Daniel’s neck and was delighted to note the slight shiver that ran through him. He felt it reverberate through Daniel’s body.

Daniel was silent for awhile. Jack kept stroking his hand. Daniel was warm and _here._ It felt so right.

“When you woke up, did you know that you’d woken up. Did it seem ... real?”

Jack had to think about that.

“Yeah. It did. Seeing you made it real.” He could see him now, Daniel, standing there on the Asgard ship, concern and love written all over his frowny face.

Daniel tensed a little, his whole body seeming to incrementally contract in on itself. Jack tensed in response.

“I didn’t know.” Daniel spoke so quietly that Jack wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“Didn’t know what, baby?” He kept his voice low, imbued it with all understanding he could muster.

“I didn’t know ... that what was happening to me when I was in the infirmary, when we came here, was real.”

Jack considered this. He had to tread carefully. He wasn’t trained for this. All he had was his love.

“You mean ... you weren’t sure that anything that happened after you were found on that planet was actually happening?”

Daniel nodded, an endless tremor running through his body. Jack tightened his hold.

“In my head, when I was taken, I ran through everything that would happen when you found me. I saw it all, imagined it all; you sitting beside my bed in the infirmary fighting to get me out of there, bringing me home, loving me. My mind took me there to keep me sane.” His voice was so dispassionate, so matter-of-fact. It hurt beyond words to hear him speak that way. But he was talking and, no matter how much pain it brought, it was the beginning of the unburdening.

“Daniel,” Jack whispered.

_Taken, he was taken, oh my god._

“I didn’t dare to believe it was real, Jack. If it hadn’t been real ...” Daniel shook in Jack’s arms, “it would have been the end.”

Jack felt his stomach plunge the way it had when he’d jumped from a plane in his special ops days. It was an unwelcome, familiar terror. At least he’d had a parachute then; he was in freefall here. He clung to Daniel, struggling to find the right words to ease him through this.

“Can you tell me how you found your voice? What made it real?” He’d been desperate to know from the moment it happened.

Jack had to listen hard for the reply. “You saying you would retire.”

Jack paused in his stroking.

“It was never suggested,” Daniel went on, “not even when things were at their worst, when we were so unsure of your taking command of the SGC or the move to Washington, when we argued and went round and round in circles endlessly. Resigning your commission was never an option, so it was never part of what I imagined.”

On the TV, Rockhopper penguins threw themselves out of the torrid ocean surf and against the rocks, time and time again, never giving up on their single-minded mission to climb the cliff and get to their breeding ground despite the constant battering.

“When you said you’d quit, I just knew.”

“I meant what I said,” Jack couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight of the tireless battle for survival on screen. “I’ll quit. It’s time.”

Daniel appeared equally mesmerized by what was happening on the TV. “It’s not. You can’t walk away anymore than I can. You know that as well as I do. It sucks but it’s how it has to be.”

Jack swallowed. “So, what happens now?”

Daniel didn’t answer. He snuggled deeper into Jack’s arms.

On the TV, the Rockhoppers finally made to the cliff top and waddled off in search of a safe place to bring up their young.

Score one for those who loved happy endings.

>>>>> 

Jack left a gently snoring Daniel in bed and made his way to the Mountain for a pre-arranged early meeting with Landry.

Jack’s conversation with Daniel the previous evening had left Daniel tired and unwilling to talk anymore. Despite that, it felt like something of a breakthrough. One word, however, niggled and clawed at him.

Daniel remembered being taken.

Jack hadn’t slept well, despite being curled around Daniel the entire night, and blinked gritty eyes as he made his way to Landry’s office.

Landry, as seemed to be his wont, was all business. The planet where Daniel had gone missing had been locked out of the dialing computer. They discussed Teal’c’s ruminations about leaving the SGC, about plans to transfer Carter out, about what would become of SG-1.

And then they talked about Daniel.

“I’d like to propose something, Jack, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Jack didn’t. Daniel would.

Why was nothing ever straightforward?

>>>>> 

The early-evening run left Jack exhausted. Daniel had paced him easily and eventually outrun him. He was fitter than he’d ever been. Even so, Jack could see only his vulnerability.

They were about to hit the shower when Daniel put a hand on Jack’s arm.

“I’m going back to work.”

Jack tensed. Daniel had been ready for this for days.

“You can’t.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“You have to get past MacKenzie first.” That should do it.

“Then set up an appointment.”

Panic rose, fierce and sudden. “Daniel ...” It felt like losing him again. He was about to become the SGC’s Daniel, the universe’s Daniel, when selfishly he wanted him to be _his_ Daniel.

“Jack. Please.” Daniel could deal with MacKenzie, Jack knew. He’d had years of snowing psychiatrists counselors and the like, ever since he was labeled an abandoned eight-year-old with a traumatic past. But Jack wasn’t ready to let Daniel go out there again. He hated himself for it, but there it was.

Yet Daniel was standing there, physically healthy, desperate to get back to the SGC, and looking at him with an expression that was so very Daniel, a mixture of stubbornness and pleading.

One last shot. “Can’t you talk to me about what happened? ” _Haven’t I earned that? Don’t you owe me that much after all we’ve been through?_ He felt needy and entitled and hated himself just a little more.

Daniel’s eyes flicked around the bathroom. “If I have to talk about it at all, and it seems I do if I’m going to be allowed to move on, then I’m only going to do it once. I _can_ only do it once.”

Jack nodded, his heart thumping. “Then I’m going to be there.”

Daniel licked his lips and frowned, sure signs of agitation. Jack wouldn’t budge on this. He hoped it wouldn’t escalate into one of their non-resolvable, circular arguments. He really didn’t have the energy or inclination.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“I still want to hear it.”

“It won’t make you feel any better.”

“I think I’ll be the best judge of that.”

“It won’t make _me_ feel any better.”

“And only you can be the judge of that.”

 _He’s protecting me._ The thought sprang sudden and sure. _Stop protecting me._

“It’s non-negotiable, Daniel.”

Daniel sighed, a desperately weary sound. He started to undress, leaned in and switched on the shower. “Fine,” he said, sharply, disappearing behind the curtain into a billow of steam.

Not fine, then.

Not fine at all.

>>>>> 

That night, wrapped around a sleeping Daniel, holding him, shielding him, Jack’s mind raced.

Why the hell did Daniel feel the need to protect him? Wasn’t it Jack’s job to protect? Isn’t that what he’d always done, every time they stepped through the Gate, or latterly when Jack watched his back from a distance when he sent them on missions, or even when they sat late at night, beer and pizza to hand, battling their own inner demons?

In hindsight, maybe Daniel had been protecting him for years, physically saving him on that first mission, then patching him up emotionally time and time again down the years.

It’s how they rolled. It’s what they did.

They protected each other.

Jack had a sinking feeling they’d need to it more fiercely than ever tomorrow.

He curled more tightly around Daniel, shushing him when he roused and then settled again, seemingly secure in the strength and warmth of Jack’s embrace.

_We can do this._

Sleep was a long time coming _._

>>>>> 

“You ready?”

Jack looked intently at Daniel as they approached MacKenzie’s door. Daniel blew out a breath and nodded. He looked out of place, dressed in jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, while all around were in uniform, including Jack. It set him apart, reminding Jack again of Daniel’s unique place at the SGC and how difficult being a civilian in a military world, and living under its rules, must be for him, even now.

“Any time you want out of there, just say the word.”

“I can handle MacKenzie.”

“I know, I just ... I’m there, okay?”

Daniel gave him a small, tired smile and reached for the door handle.

>>>>> 

Jack sat in an uncomfortable chair by the door. His world was full of uncomfortable chairs. MacKenzie sat behind his desk. Daniel stood, arms folded across his chest, feet crossed at the ankle, leaning against the far wall, exuding raging antipathy.

He resented being here.

Jack hated being here.

MacKenzie _was_ here and appeared content to let Daniel take the lead. His right-off-the-bat warning that Jack’s presence was highly irregular, that he was here on sufferance and at Dr. Jackson’s request, and if he interfered in any way with proceedings he’d be out the door, was met by Jack with a restrained nod of understanding. This wasn’t about him and it wasn’t about him and MacKenzie.

Daniel looked from MacKenzie to Jack and back again, unfolded his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Okay. I’d really appreciate if you’d just let me talk because I don’t have this worked out in my own mind and I just need to get it out. Push me and I’ll stop. Offer sympathy, project your horror onto me and I will walk out that door. Believe me, I’d like nothing more than the excuse to shut the fuck up about this.”

MacKenzie leaned forward and linked the fingers of both hands over an open file, presumably Daniel’s. An owl about to devour a dormouse would have looked less eager. Jack ground his teeth but stayed silent.

Daniel began tentatively. “The night it happened, I remember talking to Sam on watch. We were thinking about where the team might go from here, how things were likely to change because three instead of four didn’t feel right and probably wouldn’t be tolerated by Higher for much longer. We wondered how you were coping in Washington.”

Daniel paused and graced MacKenzie with a sharp look. “Before I go on, I need to know that anything I say in relation to my relationship with Jack stays in this room. I won’t compromise him. If you can’t guarantee that then I walk away right now. And don’t get clever and say I told you not interrupt because in this instance I go no further without your assurance.”

MacKenzie took off his glasses. “My sole concern is with your mental health, Dr. Jackson. Only if anything you told me led me to believe you would endanger either yourself, your team, or anyone at this facility, would I break patient confidentiality.”

Daniel nodded, reassured enough to carry on. “I didn’t tell Sam I missed you more than I thought possible.” He looked at Jack, eyes softening. “But I think she heard more than I was saying. I was finding our separation harder to cope with than I imagined. When I’m in pain, I become introspective. More of a pain in the ass than usual. I was over-thinking everything, over-analyzing everything.

“I don’t know why but ascension had been on mind a lot while we were on the mission. And, because I was being so _fucking_ inward-looking I began to talk about it. I told Sam I didn’t remember much beyond feeling helpless when I couldn’t directly help those I loved.” He shot Jack an agonized look. Jack felt the chill of Baal’s cell, the anguish of repeated pain and cold, endless death. He shivered.

“You helped,” Jack said, softly.

Daniel held up a hand, “Jack, please. Let me ...”

Jack grimaced and held up an apologetic hand in return.

“It all fed into the general unhappiness I was feeling. I think Sam grew tired of my self-obsessed ramblings and went to her tent. I don’t blame her. Since what happened with Anubis, I haven’t exactly been a bundle of laughs. I sat ... brooding ... for a while and began writing in my journal – personal stuff, not mission-related. I took off my glasses when I felt a headache coming on, lay the journal on the ground and then ...”

Jack forced himself to remain still and kept his eyes fixed on Daniel, who was drawing in on himself, retreating, pulling away.

“Then ... I wasn’t sitting on that log anymore. I was somewhere else. It was dark and I was, I felt like I was, floating, suspended. If I had to describe it, I’d say it felt like a parody of ascension. That moment I stepped through the Gate to follow Oma, became energy, I can remember that vividly; I couldn’t tell whether I was corporeal or incorporeal and it was ... terrifying. It was a split second of absolute terror that seemed to last a lifetime.” His voice cracked on the last word and it came out breathy and frightened.

“And that’s how it felt in the ... place ... where they took me. Wherever I was. Suspended. It was like being in zero gravity; I didn’t know where my body ended. There was no light. None. I had no sense of vision. Can you imagine what that’s like? I tried to calm down, to assess, the way Jack taught me to respond when under stress in the field. It worked, to a degree, anyway. I figured out that the air and skin temperature were the same. If I had to guess, I’d say around 95 degrees. And it was quiet. So ... quiet. There was no sound at all. The kind of quiet where you can actually hear your muscles tense, your heart beat, your eyelids close.”

Daniel shuddered, and wrapped his arms around himself, self-hugging. Whether he was keeping his body heat in or the memories out, Jack couldn’t tell. Jack was finding it hard to breathe. He willed Daniel on; willed him to get through this.

“I had no sense of time. I had no idea if hours, days or weeks had passed. I never felt hungry or thirsty but my lips were dry because I didn’t want to lick them. The sound ... the sound my body made was terrifying.” He looked at Jack, smiled wryly. “I’m using that word a lot, aren’t I? I’m sorry I can’t think of anything else to describe it. The horror of it ... I feared I was losing my mind.”

Jack closed his eyes against what he knew was Daniel’s greatest fear. They’d talked a lot about Daniel’s grandfather and how the weight of his widely-disbelieved archaeological discovery had destroyed his mind.

Daniel went quiet, absorbed in memory.

Jack looked at MacKenzie, who had begun writing notes. He wanted to know what he was thinking. Was Daniel giving him the ammunition to kick him out of the program? Would he use what Daniel was saying to exact some kind of revenge for the fallout his schizophrenia misdiagnosis caused? It hadn’t been pretty, and an angry, self-loathing Jack had been a part of that.

“Whoever, or whatever had taken me ... I never got to find out. Before the realization of what the total dark and quiet meant for my mind and body, I pleaded, begged. I asked what it, they, wanted; said I would help if I could but I couldn’t help if I didn’t know what they wanted. There was no response. Nothing. I couldn’t get through. I failed on every level. I must have slept but I don’t remember sleeping. They must have fed and watered me but I don’t remember and I still have no idea how they did it. They must have been there but I didn’t know, I didn’t know ...”

Daniel pushed off the wall, walked as far away from Jack and MacKenzie as he could, and shoved himself between a chair and filing cabinet in the corner.

“I didn’t learn anything. I couldn’t discern anything. I didn’t know if it was day or night, for god’s sake. I was losing it. I was losing myself.”

Daniel closed his eyes and breathed out hard.

Jack breathed with him, reflexively.

“Gradually, I trained myself to switch off part of my brain from the ever-present fear. I don’t know how I did that. I ... retreated to where I knew I would be safe.”

Daniel’s eyes met Jack’s. They were full, glistening but no tears fell.

Jack was dying inside.

“So, I imagined being rescued. I conjured everything, from the moment of being found and going home through the Gate to being cared for in the infirmary. I saw Jack sit in the world’s most uncomfortable chair at my bedside and I saw him take me back to his house, even though his house was about to be sold, because he knew that I felt more at home there than anywhere. I imagined how he cared for me, giving me space, holding me when things got bad, getting angry and sarcastic when he got afraid. Because that’s what he does.”

The soft, loving smile Daniel sent his way nearly broke Jack’s resolve to shut the fuck up, stay put and let him finish this thing.

“I kept on picturing that, over and over. It kept me ... focused on surviving, while what was left of me went insane, I think. I saw things, hallucinations I guess, indiscriminate things that had no rhyme or reason for being there. My father used to drive a battered Land-Rover and I saw it driving through country lanes, rather than over sand dunes. I saw a dog that looked a lot like a stray I fell in love with on a dig in Egypt when I was six. I fed it scraps and got scolded for encouraging it to hang around. I saw fire, great expanses, deep pits of eternal flame and destruction that emanated pure evil.

“I never saw Sha’uri.”

Daniel sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Tiredly, he said, “I know about sensory deprivation as a means of torture. But this didn’t feel like torture, or, at least, the fear I felt was more of a,a, by-product. It’s like they were looking for something, and didn’t realize what their searching was doing to me.”

He played with the arms of glasses, opening and closing them. “They didn’t hurt me,” he said, quietly.

Jack wanted to punch a wall.

“Next thing I knew I was squinting against the light and stumbling around near the Gate and Castleman’s team found me. And I was home and it took me forever to realize that I truly _was._ To trust that I was finally safe. And I can’t make it make sense. And that’s what’s making me so crazy.”

He put his glasses on in a passive-aggressive way that was uniquely Daniel and looked from MacKenzie to Jack and back again.

MacKenzie put down his pen. “From what you’ve described, you’ve experienced an extreme case of sensory deprivation. Whoever, or whatever, took you, tried to induce hallucinations, a psychotic state, to gain what it, or they, required from you.”

“It sounds pretty textbook, Daniel. Right out of the CIA manual. A central tenet of coercive investigation, going right back to the Cold War,” Jack said, clasping his hands together so tightly they began to ache.

“I wasn’t snatched by the CIA, Jack.” Tiredness was giving way to snippiness. Jack really wanted this to be over.

Daniel shook his head, then stilled, tilted his head and said, flatly, “Ascension.”

“What?” Jack often had trouble keeping up with the twist and turns of Daniel’s thought processes. Today was no exception.

“What if they were trying to recreate the state of ascension in order to probe my memories of it?”

“Why would they do that?” MacKenzie leaned back in his chair.

Daniel threw up his hands. “I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything? Maybe they wanted to know if I remembered anything that could be used against the Ancients.”

Jack studied the floor as a thought rose, hot and angry. “What if it was the Others?” He looked up at Daniel. “You pissed ‘em off more than once. Not many get to do that.”

“So ... a punishment? A warning not to test them again? Or simply some kind of evaluation to see if there were remnants of ascended memory still there. I could be a benchmark of residual ascendedness, just in case another Oma comes along and decides ascending another human is worth the risk.”

Jack shrugged. “No idea. Wouldn’t put it past them. They like to think they are all-powerful. That probably turns off any let’s-go-easy-on-this-guy filters. Absolute power, and all that.”

“Dr. Jackson, I think it’s probably true to say that we might never truly know what happened to you, or why. What I’d like to know is how you feel you responded to it.”

Daniel stalked across the office, back to where he started and adopted the same position with his back to the wall. “What? The fact that I said I failed, was terrified, pretty much lost my mind doesn’t give you a clue?” Now, he was angry. Jack saw it in the way he held his body, the way the lines around his eyes tightened.

MacKenzie leaned forward, kept his tone so reasonable Jack gave up wanting to punch the wall and wanted to punch him instead.

“But that’s not what you’re really angry about, is it? Dr. Jackson, I think I know you well enough to know that you’re a man who can rationalize your failure and terror. Forgive me for saying so, but you have experienced both in your life, either real or perceived. You are, I think, coping well with those things, and the more you unravel events, the better you will cope. What you are not dealing with is something else.”

“I’m sorry ... failure, terror and insanity not enough for you?” Daniel’s eyes were blazing, he was shaking. He was coming apart.

“What is it that is really stopping you from dealing fully with what happened to you, Dr. Jackson?”

“I don’t understand what happened. I don’t _know_. That’s a bit of a problem.” Sarcasm -- Daniel’s go-to refuge when hurting more than he can express.

“You’re working through what happened. You’ve proved that. There’s something else.”

“Well, maybe you should tell me,” Daniel spat back, radiating discomfort. “Isn’t that your job?” So desperate.

“Baby, please.” Jack said it without thinking and he didn’t give a fuck, because the man he loved was coming apart at the seams and he had to reach him.

Daniel pushed the heels of his hands into his forehead so hard that Jack was sure there would be an imprint.

“Because I didn’t trust myself enough to reach out to you, okay? I didn’t have the faith in you, in us, that I was so sure of, so _fucking cockily_ sure of, when you left for Washington. We’d be okay, I said. We’d be fine. You just had to have a little faith. I kissed you to seal the deal and we fucked so hard, so _fucking_ lovingly, remember? Well, where was _my_ faith when I really needed it?Why the fuck couldn’t I trust myself enough to know that you were real?”

It was as if Daniel had forgotten MacKenzie was in the room. He was so deep in his own pain. But now that he’d ripped off the scab to expose the wound beneath he wasn’t going to stop, because he never went easy on himself. Jack would have done anything to spare him this emotional exposure. Daniel was so private, so self-contained. This must have been a whole new torture.

Jack rose from his seat and approached him with the same wariness he’d adopt with a frightened dog. “But you did reach out. You rescued yourself.”

“Only when you said something so unlikely that an idiot would realize what was going on.”

“It doesn’t matter, Daniel. None of it matters. You’re here. You’re safe. Whatever comes now, we handle it together, just as we always do.”

Daniel began pacing, again, hands clenching and unclenching. “No. No, it matters. What we have, what we are, is the very core of me, Jack. It took me a very long time to accept that. I can live without anything else in my life. I can’t live without you.”

“You won’t have to.”

“I don’t trust myself. What if my emotional fucked-upedness pushes you away?”

“Well, I do trust you, Daniel. And it won’t. And you have to trust _me_ on that.”

Daniel stopped pacing, leaned heavily against MacKenzie’s desk.

MacKenzie sat back, a clear physical indication that he was willing to take a back seat; that this was between Jack and Daniel. Jack had never been a mere witness to this unburdening, Jack realized, and maybe that had been Daniel’s intention all along. MacKenzie was the observer now. And maybe Daniel had planned that, too.

Jack stood close, not touching. “Hey.” He waited until Daniel looked at him. God, Daniel needed this to be over. “I gotta tell you, you are being so ... Daniel ... over this. Terror, failure and insanity? No problem. A little emotional hiccup? End of the world klaxon. Big stuff, big scary stuff you can deal with. The smaller, more intimate, more _Daniel_ stuff? That terrifies you – there’s that word again – more than anything. Cut yourself some slack here. You were tortured, Daniel, intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter. You’re human. Well, mainly. Residual ascendedness notwithstanding.”

That drew a small smile. Jack was pathetically grateful to see it.

“Allow yourself to struggle with the small stuff. Let me help you unknot the knot. Let us be us.”

Daniel fought it, waged an inner battle to relinquish his agony but, little by little, and obviously against his will, he seemed to let Jack’s words sink in and the tension began to drain from him, from the room. He reached out a tentative, shaking hand and Jack took it, squeezing hard, grounding him. _I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go._ Daniel face suddenly paled, his breath coming in short gasps. He was crashing.

“Give us the room,” Jack said, sharply, addressing his words to MacKenzie but keeping his eyes firmly on Daniel.

To his eternal credit, MacKenzie didn’t argue the toss, rising quietly and shutting the door gently behind him.

“I’m sorry for being so ... me ....” Daniel was shaking hard.

“Well, luckily for you, I kinda like you. I think I can handle it.” Jack’s voice sounded shaky and relieved to his own ears. “C’mere.”

They met each other in a desperate hug. They clung hard and then harder, bodies fitting and melding. This was comfort. This was the beginning of healing.

“It’s okay,” Jack whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

This time, he dared to believe what he was saying.

“Take me home,” Daniel said, softly against Jack’s ear. “Then take me to bed.”

>>>>> 

Jack sucked him, slowly, tenderly, to an orgasm that came too fast and too soon.

Daniel cried out, hands clenched in the sheets, body rigid. Riding the tremors, he reached desperately for Jack’s dick. “Please.”

Jack swept Daniel’s legs onto his shoulders and fucked him, forcefully, the way Daniel’s body had begged him to. He thrust hard, then harder, every stroke taking them away from the horror of what had been. Jack grunted his effort, the sound a harsh counterpoint to Daniel’s soft “Unh, unh, unhs”.

“Love you,” Jack breathed. “Love you.”

He pushed in on a long, searing stroke and held, stayed still as long as he could, but he felt the rush begin and could do nothing to stop it. He didn’t _want_ to stop it. He let go, let everything go, and came in a hot, overwhelming surge .

Daniel cried, then, wrenching, cleansing sobs, as though his heart was breaking. Jack held him, held on, until sleep claimed them both. They lay curled in each other’s arms all night, exhaustion and relief combining to knock them out spectacularly.

When Jack woke, he knew they’d cope with whatever the day brought.

>>>>> 

Daniel snapped his cell phone shut and sat down at the kitchen table, across from Jack.

“He says if I feel ready, he’s prepared to clear me.”

Jack peered at Daniel over his reading glasses. “MacKenzie said that?”

“You’re surprised?” Daniel started in on his pancake stack.

“I thought maybe counseling.”

Daniel spoke around a mouthful of pancake and maple syrup. “I think you proved in MacKenzie’s office that you’re all the counselor I need. He pretty much said so.”

“I have many talents.” Jack took every opportunity to be smug.

“Most of them hidden.” Daniel fired off the quick barb between giant bites of home-cooked breakfast.

God, the banter felt good. They were getting back to being them again. And they were pretty damned great.

“I think he trusts you to push me to seek extra help, if I need it.”

Jack took a slug of coffee and eased back in his chair. “Maybe he’s not such an asshole after all.”

“He never was, even though it took me a while to see it. He was doing his job. You always said I was a little flaky on a good day. I can see how he rushed to the conclusion he did back then.”

Jack grimaced. He was about to get indigestion. “Can we not dwell? And can you never tell MacKenzie that I may have paid him a compliment.”

Daniel reached for the syrup bottle. “Deal. Now, speaking of being ready ... I should call Landry about being rostered, although if Sam and Teal’c do move on, I have no idea what’s waiting for me.”

“Yeah. About that.”

Daniel blinked at him.

“Landry has an idea.”

He chewed. “Oh.”

“You’re going to love it.”

>>>>> 

Jack closed Landry’s door and headed for the elevator. Everything was in place; everyone was moving on. Carter’s transfer to R&D was approved and pending; Teal’c was preparing to ship out and Daniel was about to start packing for Disneyland after officially putting in for a reassignment that was approved by Landry, who had suggested it in the first place. Mitchell would be pissed but he had the chance to build his own team. _His_ SG-1. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

As he walked down familiar corridors, nodded to familiar airman, Jack acknowledged that it felt different being here now. He didn’t fully belong. Times had changed and he was simply the man who used to lead SG-1, and who then commanded the Mountain.

The personnel – Reynolds, Pierce, Harriman, Siler, Brightman and all the others -- were Landry’s people now.

Lost in thought, he almost ran into someone as he rounded a corner, holding up a hand in apology.

“General O’Neill.”

“Dr. MacKenzie.”

The conversation seemed to end at that point.

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. “I, er, I should thank you.”

MacKenzie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For what?”

Jack shifted. Was he _really_ doing this? “For Daniel.”

MacKenzie shook his head. “I did very little, General, and I certainly would not have passed him fit for duty if I didn’t think he could handle it. The thanks should rest with you.”

Jack tried to smile but was very aware that it might have come across as a grimace.

“Dr. Jackson is a lucky man.”

Jack was about to rebut that when MacKenzie clutched his folder close and began to walk past him. “Perhaps one day I’ll be so lucky.”

The words trailed in his wake.

Jack looked after him long after he turned the corner and disappeared.

>>>>> 

Jack did a final sweep of the house. He double checked that the power and water were turned off, that the windows were locked and the packing cases that were shipping out to D.C. were stacked in the garage. He’d thought he’d said his goodbyes to this house before, but it was harder to leave this time.

Leaving the Springs was harder every time.

Leaving Daniel was unbearable. But he’d do it because he had to and because one day, if they just hung in there, there would be no more goodbyes.

He found Daniel standing by the big window in the living room, looking out past the deck to the trees, swaying in the frisky Fall wind. He looked lost in thought.

“Penny for ‘em.” Jack swept quietly up behind him and put his arms around Daniel’s waist, pulling him in close.

“I was thinking I’d keep the beard.”

Jack smiled. “I like that.”

“I won’t shave it off until you can do it for me. When I come home.”

Jack felt the welcome, familiar stirrings of want. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“And I was marveling that you’re really letting me go to Atlantis.”

“I really am.”

“After all those times you said no.”

Jack nuzzled Daniel’s neck, placing a soft kiss on the delicious skin. He would miss touching him so much. Miss holding him. Touching him eased the terror of the prospect of letting him go.

“You’ve earned it. And I’ve run out of excuses. Anubis and the Replicators are rightly consigned to the trash can of history and the System Lords are fatally weakened. Yep. No excuses that don’t involve the personal. You know I’d rather have you here than out there. But the needs of the many. Yadda.”

It sounded so reasonable when he said it out loud. Inside, he was desperate to keep him close. Half a continent was a hell of a lot closer than an entire galaxy. But Atlantis needed Daniel and, more importantly as far as Jack was concerned, Daniel needed Atlantis.

“It could be a case of out of the frying pan.” Daniel placed his hands over Jack’s and leaned back further into him. He loved to be close. For Jack, they could never get close enough.

Jack kissed him again. “You’ll be fine. _We’ll_ be fine. I have faith.”

Daniel turned in Jack’s arms. “So do I,” he said, firmly, the truth of it so clear in his steady gaze. “I just wish ...”

Jack placed his forefinger against Daniel’s lips. “It’s over. Time to begin the Chapter Before the Final Chapter, remember?”

Jack closed his eyes as Daniel kissed him, long and slow and full of love. This kiss had to last him through the coming Daniel-less months; the soulless, grinding days and the empty lonely nights. He held Daniel close, swaying slightly, letting the closeness ease the unbearable pain of parting.

Eventually, they pulled apart, still holding hands, looking a little embarrassed that they were holding hands, unwilling to let go.

“I’m a fast reader,” Daniel said, smiling shyly.

“Good.” Jack squeezed his hands tightly. “Because I can’t wait to see how this story turns out.”

>>>>> 

He defrosted some cannelloni, drank his second beer of the night, and opened a new carton of mint choc chip. He switched on the TV, found some obscure channel showing Stanley Cup replays from back in the day. He washed the dishes. He played some Ella on his dad’s record player and yawned his way to 1am. He went to bed and read an aeronautics journal for ten minutes until the words danced incomprehensibly in front of his eyes.

He’d been back at Homeworld Security for two days.

Daniel was leaving for Atlantis in three.

As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of the unopened whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter. He’d be opening it on Daniel’s first visit before he knew it. They’d raise a glass to their future, then they’d laugh and love and make the most of every moment they had together.

He had total faith in that.

ends


End file.
